I love the way I look. I'm fine with it. And if my body changes, I'll be fine with that.

I don't think my brand of self-confidence and self-assuredness can come from an outside source. It's got to come from me.

In the seventh grade, I was about to leave wearing a jumper, when my mom said she could see my panty line. So I just wore stockings. That day I broke my ankle, and the EMS cut my tights off. I got a full cast with no stockings on and no panties.

It's so weird to turn on a switch and be the role model for all women, for all African-Americans. That doesn't happen that easily. It does not. So I don't act up in public and don't do anything weird, because my sisters are watching me. Not because the world is watching me.

I can't go to sleep unless I've watched at least two episodes of American Dad on Hulu or iTunes. It just feels familiar. It's like a lullaby.

I don't know any teenager with a positive attitude.

They try to paint the picture that I was this downtrodden, ugly girl who was unpopular in school and in life, and then I got this role and now I’m awesome. But the truth is that I’ve been awesome, and then I got this role.